Hanna’s purple mug wasn’t just any mug. It was special. It had her name written in gold on the side, surrounded by tiny painted stars, and it had been a gift from her favorite teacher, Mrs. Langley. “For being curious and kind,” the note inside the mug had read. Hanna treasured it more than anything else in the world.

And because it was so special, there was one unbreakable rule: No one else was allowed to use it.

The first test of her rule came on a lazy Sunday morning. Hanna walked into the kitchen to find her older brother, Jake, pouring hot chocolate into her purple mug.

“Jake!” she shrieked, snatching the mug out of his hands.

“What’s the big deal?” Jake asked, startled. “It’s just a mug.”

“It’s not just a mug,” Hanna said, clutching it to her chest. “It’s my mug, and it’s special. Use another one.”

Jake rolled his eyes and reached for a plain white mug. “Fine. But it’s not like it would’ve broken.”

“That’s not the point!” Hanna said, carefully rinsing the purple mug and setting it back on its special shelf. “This one isn’t for anyone else.”

The next near-miss came later that week when Aunt Marie stopped by for tea. As Hanna set out cups for everyone, Aunt Marie reached for the purple mug.

“Oh, what a lovely mug!” Aunt Marie exclaimed. “May I use this one?”

“No!” Hanna yelped, grabbing it before Aunt Marie could. “That one’s not for guests.”

Aunt Marie blinked, surprised. “Oh, I didn’t realize it was so important.”

“It is,” Hanna said firmly. “It’s from my teacher. She gave it to me because I was curious and kind.”

“Well,” Aunt Marie said with a small smile, “it seems you’re also a little protective.”

Hanna didn’t mind. The purple mug went right back on its shelf after Aunt Marie left.

Even Dad wasn’t immune. One evening, Hanna walked into the living room and froze. There he was, sitting on the couch, sipping coffee—from the purple mug!

“Dad!” Hanna gasped, rushing over. “You can’t use that!”

Her dad looked at her, puzzled. “Why not? It was the only clean mug in the cabinet.”

“Then wash another one!” Hanna said, snatching the mug. “This one is off-limits.”

“Off-limits?” Dad chuckled. “It’s a mug, Hanna.”

“No, it’s my mug,” Hanna corrected, taking it to the kitchen to clean. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Hanna’s mom finally stepped in after witnessing one of her purple mug rescues. “Hanna, I think you’re getting a little too worked up over this,” she said gently. “It’s just a mug.”

“It’s not just a mug,” Hanna said for the hundredth time. “Mrs. Langley gave it to me because she believed in me. It’s special.”

“I understand,” Mom said, smiling. “But maybe it’s okay to let people you care about use something special. It doesn’t make it less yours.”

Hanna frowned. “But what if it breaks?”

“Then you’ll still have the memory,” Mom said. “And that can’t break.”

The next day, Hanna thought about what her mom had said. When her best friend Chloe came over after school, Chloe reached for the purple mug. For the first time, Hanna didn’t stop her.

“Are you sure?” Chloe asked. “I know how much you love this mug.”

Hanna hesitated, then nodded. “It’s okay. Just be careful with it.”

Chloe grinned. “I promise.”

As they sat together, sipping tea and laughing about their day, Hanna realized something. Sharing her purple mug didn’t make it less special. If anything, it made the moments with the people she loved even better.

From then on, the purple mug still had a special shelf—but every now and then, Hanna let someone she trusted borrow it. Because as much as she loved the mug, she loved the memories they made with it even more.

One evening, after everyone had gone home, Hanna rinsed the mug and placed it back in its spot. It was still her favorite thing, but now it reminded her of something else, too—that some things are even better when they’re shared.